“What is that?”

Henry turned to see white eyes glowing amidst the darkness. The eyes were affixed to a hulking silhouette crouched low to the ground, and Henry could just make out the glint of sharp teeth below them. Rather than fear, Henry’s first response was to feel relieved. He’d been right. The fear came after, when the creature let loose a low, rippling snarl. It was the only warning any of them received before a massive black shape lunged at them out of the shadows.

Inspector Zhou tackled Henry, knocking him out of the way as the beast leaped over their heads, heading straight for the crib. It howled again, the sound resonant with magic, and the crib exploded, splintered wood flying out in every direction. Saoirse screamed.

And then Taise’s voice cut over the chaos.

“Furze, heel,” he ordered. His voice was the same as the hound’s howl: vicious, chilling, heavy with both magic and power. And all at once, the dog went still. Taise snapped his fingers and a glowing ball of light appeared at the center of the room, illuminating the havoc that the creature had managed to wreak in a matter of mere moments. He issued another command: “Drop it and come here.”

The dog dropped the baby doll it had taken between its teeth. It looked over at Taise, then back at the doll, as if realizing that it had been set up, and slunk over to the sídhe with its tail between its legs. Taise sighed and patted its head. “There, there. You’re not in trouble. Your master, on the other hand…”

“Are you sure you have that thing under control?” Inspector Zhou asked. In the wake of the hound’s attack, he’d climbed unsteadily to his feet, holding a hand out to help Henry up as well.

“Don’t be rude,” Taise said. He pet the hound until its ears perked back up. It was sleeker than Etta, black instead of white. It seemed to be older as well, knobbly in the way of adult dogs. “Furze was just following bad orders. As long as I’m here, he won’t hurt anyone.”

Henry frowned. “That’s strange. I thought it would be…well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Is everyone alright?"

“I got knocked in the head by a block of wood, but sure, I guess,” Saoirse said, petulantly throwing one of the splintered pieces of the crib. She eyed Furze. “Is this hound yours, Lord Anghau?”

“He belongs to Cian, one of my negotiators.”

“The one who was supposed to inherit after your father?” Henry asked. “If the hound is here, then his master won’t be far behind. Inspector Zhou, will you check on your officers?”

“I’ll go with,” Taise offered. “If they haven’t already found Cian, Furze can lead us to him. He’ll be a handful to catch, anyway.”

Inspector Zhou sniffed and said, reluctantly, “I appreciate your cooperation on this matter.”

Saoirse bent to pick up the toy doll, whose head had been snapped clean off under the force of the hound’s bite. “Poor Sherrie…”

Henry barely heard her. He kicked one of the bars of the broken crib, anxiety knotting in his chest. His body hadn’t yet caught on to the fact that, as quickly as this had begun, it had ended. Adrenaline coursed through him, and he couldn’t shake the thought that it had been too easy. Still, an easy end to this vicious game wasn’t something he could complain about.

“I’m going to go tell Helena the news,” he said.

Henry heard Ioanna crying as he started up the stairs, the baby no doubt having awoken at the howl of the cú sídhe and the commotion that followed. Helena answered the door to her chambers only seconds after Henry knocked, her brows lined with worry, her arms full of a crying Ioanna. “Mr. Bell,” she said, “What’s happening down there? What was that noise?”

“It’s over,” Henry told her, first. “We stopped the creature that killed your husband, and Inspector Zhou is tracking down its master as we speak.”

Helena sighed, relieved. Wordlessly, she stepped aside, inviting Henry in, and Henry nodded his thanks. The interior was simple, a plain guest room with little by way of personal touch. The bed clearly hadn’t been slept in and a crib was pulled up alongside it.

“Have you heard of the cú sídhe, Mrs. Hathaway?” Henry asked, turning to face Helena.

He meant to say more, but the words caught in his throat. Behind Helena, the curtains covering the room’s only window drew open on their own, moonlight spilling in around the shadow of something large that moved outside. With a click that seemed too loud in the deafening silence, the window unlatched and slowly began to raise, as if lifted by an invisible hand. Helena turned at the window’s creaking protest, her breath catching on a gasp.

They both watched, frozen, as a ghostly figure with sharp limbs climbed in through the open window. It was pale white under the moonlight, and if not for the color, Henry never would have recognized it. It could scarcely be called a dog anymore, its long limbs shifting and rearranging in terrible ways as it settled all four paws onto the ground. It proceeded to change before their eyes, growing from something stretched and thin and hairless, able to squeeze through the window, to a shape more recognizable, a creature as large as Helena herself.

That explained how it had fit between the bars of the nursery window, Henry thought distantly.

There was no warning howl this time, but bright red eyes fixed on the baby in Helena’s arms. Helena screamed, sinking back against the far wall, clutching Ioanna to her chest, and for once, Henry acted without a plan. He stepped between Helena and the cú sídhe, his arms spread wide.

The hound, which had been prowling closer, stopped and tilted her head to the side.

Over the sound of Ioanna’s crying, Henry asked, “You remember me, don’t you?”

He waited for an answer, his heart pounding in his chest, as Etta processed the question. Even as he watched, Etta’s form changed until she looked again like the dog he had met that morning. She was less sharp, more shaggy. Her eyes didn’t glow as bright. She wagged her tail once, curious.

“That’s right. Your master told you not to hurt me,” Henry said. He had no idea if Etta understood him or not.

Before she could make up her mind on whether to attack, the door burst open with a crack and a flare of blinding magic. Taise stood on the other side, out of breath and eyes wild. “Heel, Etta,” he commanded, and Etta heeled. She bounded over to Taise, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Henry nearly sank to the floor in relief, finally realizing how badly his legs shook.

“Please tell me that’s the last of them,” Saoirse said, sagging against the doorframe behind Taise.

“That’s the last of them,” Henry promised.

“Does that one belong to that Cian fellow, too?” she asked, leaning far back while Etta tried to sniff her.

Taise smiled ruefully. “Actually, this one belongs to me.”

Saoirse took a large step away from the dog and looked to Henry for an explanation.

“He’s not the one who gave the order,” Henry assured her.

Taise scritched Etta, watched Henry with a cold, unreadable expression. “You’re certain of that, Henry? How?”

“Because if it had been you after Ioanna all this time, I suspect you would have succeeded on the first try.”

Taise blinked, surprised, and laughed.  “That’s fair enough.” He crossed over to Helena and offered her a hand. “My deepest apologies for the commotion, Mrs. Hathaway. You have nothing more to fear from Henrietta, or from any of the hounds of the sídhe. They’re under my control, and I won’t let them harm you or your child.”

At first, Helena only stared at Taise’s hand, not seeming to process what he said, but she finally took it and let him help her to her feet. She passed Ioanna to Henry and dropped heavily onto her bed, pressing her hands to her cheeks. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Henry will explain. Won’t you, Henry?” Taise asked.

Henry looked down at the crying baby in his arms. “Yes. I, um. I’m just not sure what to do with…”

Fortunately for him, he was interrupted by the arrival of Emily and Mrs. Raptis, Emily taking Ioanna while Helena’s mother draped a blanket over her daughter’s shoulders, both giving Etta terrified looks and a wide berth. The doorbell rang downstairs, and soon, Inspector Zhou’s voice was calling up the stairs for them.

“I think the rest of your trap has sprung, Henry,” Saoirse said.

Henry nodded. “Let’s reassemble in the living room, and I’ll explain everything.”

One by one, they filed out of the room — Saoirse, Helena, Emily, Mrs. Raptis — and left only Taise, Etta, and Henry. When Henry turned to follow, Taise caught his wrist, holding him back.

“Henry.”

Henry searched his face, surprised by the sídhe’s solemn expression. He rattled his brain for something he might’ve done to offend Taise. “What’s wrong?”

“That was a foolish thing you did, getting in Etta’s way. You could have gotten hurt.”

“Oh,” Henry said. Was Taise worried?

“What if it really had been me behind this?” the sídhe asked.

“I knew it wasn’t, and you said she’d never hurt me.”

“She could have tried to go around you.”

“Helena screamed when Etta appeared. I knew I only had to distract Etta long enough for someone — Saoirse — to hear and go fetch you. But,” Henry said, “I’m sorry for worrying you, all the same.”

Taise opened his mouth to argue, then shut it and shook his head. “You’re lucky Etta is a clever dog,” he said. At the mention of her name, Etta’s tail started wagging all over again.

"It’s not luck. I trusted you to mean what you said,” Henry said. With a small smile, he held a hand out toward Etta, who surged forward to lick it. “And I trusted Etta to understand it. Now: shall we go see who was behind this?”